Never give up the pleasure of reading a good fiction book. Some consider reading for entertainment a waste of time and even prefer movies to books, citing the fact that there is supposedly no point in reading. Why let your thoughts wander aimlessly away from reality when there is so much unknown in the world?

Even if you read non-fiction literature rather than fiction, it benefits you and automatically makes you cooler than those who don’t read. Reading helps develop your mind, makes you more educated and gives you food for thought. On this list, I would put reasoning first: anyone can get information from a book, but the most important component of the reading process is the ability to analyze this information, evaluate it and look at it from different points of view. How can you apply this information to your life? Does it relate to the real world? Can you perceive it objectively or are you interpreting it biasedly due to your personal point of view? What does this information mean to you?

Non-fiction gives us the bare facts and increases our erudition, while fiction opens our minds to creativity, increases our vocabulary, influences our emotions and enhances our cognitive abilities. There are certain reasons to read fiction and thus become a better person.

Development of creative abilities

The human ability to create is fueled by new ideas, perspectives and opinions. Fiction shows us the world with new point vision, makes you look at everything through a new prism. Our mind opens up to the author's point of view, we try to predict the plot and imagine how it would develop under other circumstances or in real world living according to the laws known to us. Fiction helps us discover new ideas.

As adults, we can use our imagination like children, if we don’t stop reading. Reading is something like a dialogue between reader and author. When you read a book, you act as a co-author, combining fantasy with the text and interpreting the words. So you can watch your own movie, which no one else can see but you, on the world's largest screen with unimaginable special effects and maximum detail - if you want it. As you read, you see images in front of you that no one else has ever seen - even while reading the same book. Our imagination continues to develop if we do not stop reading.

Reading generates emotions and awakens compassion in us

When you are engrossed in a cleverly written novel, you become immersed in emotions. You put yourself in the character's shoes, feel his emotions and try to imagine what you would feel in his place. Good author skillfully directs the reader's emotions. Research shows that reading fiction develops empathy more strongly than non-fiction literature.

A person reading a fiction book reacts to the story more strongly than when reading a non-fiction story, because fiction is a protected arena where the reader can experience any emotion and does not need to defend himself. Fiction has no relation to real life, which means that the reader is not connected with real historical events and personalities, does not relate himself to them and is free to empathize with anyone. Moreover, the reader can identify himself with the character of a fiction book, while no one would think of associating himself with the hero of newspaper publications.

Fiction gives readers more than the opportunity to emerge from everyday life and be transported to distant, non-existent worlds of fantasy. Books give us the opportunity for social connection and the serene calm that comes from feeling within seconds that we are part of something bigger.

In fiction, if it has psychologism, a lot of attention is paid to the motivation of the characters, the analysis of their behavior, and their interaction. Due to this, the reader begins to empathize with the characters and develops his own skills of interaction with other people, learns to put himself in the place of others and treat them with understanding.

Vocabulary expansion

Reading fiction increases our vocabulary, develops our speech and even teaches us how to write. This is a real practical benefit. Serious literature introduces you not only to new thoughts and ideas, but also shows you the correct use of grammar, teaches you how to construct sentences and use words that you doubted.

Authors of fiction express themselves differently in their books than documentaries. Have you ever noticed that non-fiction books, although filled with facts, can be so boring? It's all about goals and objectives. The author of a work of art writes differently, his language is subordinated to the plot, his main goal is to present you with a story, and present it beautifully, accurately express all the shades of meaning and preserve the beauty of the language. If his language is not close to the reader, he will not waste time wading through unfriendly language structures, while he will read a non-fiction book in order to know the facts. Language in non-fiction books fades into the background.

High culture

The present literary work- this is art, no worse than canvas and oil. Each painting tells its own story, each novel its own. Reading fiction introduces us to different cultures, historical eras, places and value systems. Any great work has beauty, literature is part cultural wealth humanity.

Another good thing about fiction is that it can be one hundred percent fiction - such things are quite rare. For the most part, fiction is tied to specific historical events, eras, countries, and therefore reflects the morals of people of the past and their ideas about life.

Theory of mind

What it is? Speaking in simple words, theory of mind is the recognition that other people also have opinions, desires, and thinking abilities that are different from your own. A developed theory of mind allows a person to interact with other people and understand their thoughts, feelings and emotions. Research shows that reading fiction influences theory of mind. A person who reads understands other people's motivations and thoughts using the knowledge he has gained from literature.

Olga Nagornyuk

Why read fiction?

Is it worth reading fiction? Perhaps this is a pointless waste of time, because reading does not bring money and does not contribute to promotion career ladder? Or maybe it’s even worse: books are evil because they impose other people’s thoughts and force you to live other people’s lives, forgetting about your own, real one? So is it worth wasting the precious moments allotted to us by fate on such a useless activity?

For those who love to read, immersing themselves in the world created by the author and empathizing with its heroes, the question of the importance and necessity of fiction does not arise. For them, reading is as natural as breathing. Although everyone's motivation is different.

Someone wants to find in books answers to the questions that pose to us real life, for some, reading is an opportunity to escape from boring everyday life, while others look for echoes of their own thoughts and feelings in works of art.

Unfortunately, there are fewer and fewer fans of fiction. The 21st century is the era of rationalists who plan their time minutely, main goal in life they see career building and enrichment and weigh the pros and cons before making any decision.

1. Reading builds literacy skills. Scientists have proven that while sitting at a book, a person unconsciously fixes in his mind the correct spelling of words and punctuation marks, thereby consolidating the knowledge of spelling rules acquired at school.

Why do I need spelling and punctuation rules, you say. After all, Word and LanguageTool will check and correct errors! That's right, but they won't come to your aid when you have to fill out a questionnaire at an interview or write an autobiography when applying for a job. What if you happen to sketch out the concept of a future project with your own hands in the presence of your boss? It is unlikely that he will appreciate your author's approach to spelling.

2. Fiction enriches vocabulary, teaches how to formulate phrases correctly, and develops a “sense of language.” Competent and correct speech has always been considered a sign of an intelligent and educated person. Don't you want to look like this in the eyes of others, including your management?

In conditions of widespread enthusiasm for the latest IT technologies and modern gadgets, the likelihood of finding yourself in an environment educated people, whose interests lie in the plane of literature and art, is incredibly small. However, it still exists. If you find yourself among intelligent people art world - in the theater, on literary evening or the presentation of a new book, what will you talk to them about? About the latest iPad model? What will you use? Prepositions and interjections?

Knowledge of fiction inspires a sense of confidence: if you find yourself surrounded by connoisseurs of literature, you are not in danger of looking like a black sheep there.

3. Fiction develops creative thinking, and in this neither cinema, nor theater, nor fine art can compare with it.

The picture leaves little to the imagination. Artistic word, rich in allegories and the author’s turns of phrase, sometimes delightful with their ambiguity, and sometimes leaving a taste of understatement, forces us to think out and fantasize ourselves, connecting our own imagination to this process.

Two people who read the description of Prince Bolkonsky’s meeting with the oak tree in “War and Peace” will imagine the picture painted by Leo Tolstoy in completely different ways. This is why books are valuable: they do not impose a visual image, but only give impetus to the reader’s imagination.

4. Fiction enriches the emotional experience. The twists and turns of the plot and the torment of the characters teach us to empathize: to be upset when they suffer failures, and to experience joy from the victories of others.

Therefore, in childhood we are breathtaking from the novels of Jules Verne and Jack London, in our youth we enthusiastically follow the heroes of Walter Scott and Mine Reed, and in mature age We read the works of William Faulkner and Franz Kafka.

The world of a work of art does not at all replace reality. Rather, he complements it, giving what the reader lacks in Everyday life: interesting adventures, deep feelings, vivid emotions, wisdom of generations.

5. Do not forget about the educational function of books. Changing the character of an adult is pointless, because it is impossible. But to form a behavioral base in childhood, using not edifying notations that fly past the child in transit, but examples from life literary heroes, is quite real.

“Dunno” by N. Nosov and “Treasure Island” by R. Stevenson, “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” by M. Twain and “The Last of the Mohicans” by F. Cooper, “The Adventures of Alice” by K. Bulychev and “The Wizard emerald city"A. Volkova - timeless books that talk about friendship and loyalty, teach kindness and honesty.

6. You can learn about eras through works of art. The process of getting to know history through art books is much more interesting than using scientific literature, characterized by dry presentation, or films whose screenwriters often do not care about historical accuracy.

The reign of Louis XIII and the morals that reigned at court French king, are perfectly described by A. Dumas in his “The Three Musketeers”, the background and course of the Battle of Grunwald in 1410 are reliably conveyed in “The Crusaders” by Henryk Sienkiewicz, the revolution of 1917 and civil war in Russia you can study from novels " Quiet Don"M. Sholokhov and "Walking through torment" by A. Tolstoy.

Value fiction novels is that they convey the spirit of the era, which is sorely lacking in research historical literature. Written in lively language, telling about adventures fictional characters, coexisting on the pages of books with real historical figures, these works force us to take a completely different look at history, presented in school textbooks in the form of dry dates and facts.

While convincing you of the benefits of fiction, we deliberately did not mention modern romance novels, detective stories, science fiction and fantasy. Most of them have no idea artistic value and, despite the editors’ attempts to give them a readable appearance, they are distinguished by their poverty of speech, primitive plot and the presence of literary blunders that reduce them to zero aesthetic value these creations.

But it is not all that bad. Modern fiction has worthy representatives, whose works, perhaps in 30-40 years, will be ranked among the classics of world literature. These are Victor Pelevin and Venedikt Erofeev, Alexey Varlamov and Boris Akunin, Oleg Pavlov and Sergey Senchin, Sergey Dovlatov and Lyudmila Petrushevskaya. Young people should start getting acquainted with modern literature precisely from these authors.

Is it possible to replace fiction with something? With the same success, try asking a coffee lover: “Would ersatz be a worthy alternative to coffee?” No matter how much critics praise the screen productions of “The Idiot,” directors will never be able to convey the versatility of Prince Myshkin’s feelings, delicately described by Dostoevsky.

Anna Karenina went through more than thirty film adaptations, but none of the films repeated its success. immortal work Tolstoy. Will they be remembered in 10, 20, 30 years? Hardly. Time puts everything in its place.

You can find a lot of arguments that convincingly prove that reading books brings practical benefits. But in our opinion, it is impossible to force people to love and read fiction by proving its necessity, importance and usefulness. It’s like with love: we either love a person or we don’t—it’s impossible to force someone to love.

Take it for yourself and tell your friends!

Why do people stop reading books? Or how to read and not get tired?

The reasons are always different. But they are similar:

The plot is weak
No interest.
The hero does not have

When a writer works, he puts all of himself into his work. Pictured: James Bond author Ian Fleming

Very often you draw a conclusion not on the basis of the entire book, but only on some part.

For example, I’m currently reading “The Idiot” by Dostoevsky. And somewhere in the middle of the book I got stuck, less interest, and I move more slowly. But now for me this is no longer a reason to put off reading.

What books should I read? My way of “reading and not getting tired”

Main - motive. The motive should be simple - to write well. Tell yourself, “I want to write really well.” (must be out loud so you can hear yourself)
Start learning from someone who has already completed this school and writes well - from recognized writers.
Choose an author whose style and skill appeal to you

You can choose according to the topic he is considering.

In fiction:

Themes of God, Christ, Church, State - Dostoevsky, Tolstoy
Themes social inequality- Dickens, Zola,
War themes - Hemingway, Aldington, Remarque
Theme of emigration - Remarque
Teenage Rebellion Theme - Sallinger
Love - Margaret Mitchell, Jane Austen.
The Decay of Society - Thackeray "Vanity Fair", "Lord of the Flies" Golding
Murders and investigations - Agatha Christie, Chase, Edgar Poe (all)
Fantasy - Tolkien, Clive Lewis,
Historical novels - Zweig (review of one of his excellent short stories)
Horror - Stephen King

Bernard Shaw at work

— according to the chronology of creation (This is how I read Remarque, from the very first to the last “Shadow in Paradise”)

- by topic (for example, only those that talk about a topic that interests you)

- the most important books

Synthesis: book + author's life during this period - are always of great interest to me.
Read a book like the author.

- rewrite a small part of it. Feel yourself in the shoes of the creator of this book.

Pushkin, Chekhov and Tolstoy

Thanks to this method, you learn more of the author's technique. You stop being just a reader and become an observer.

And I read the same “The Idiot” with pleasure, studying the development of the plot, the writer’s interest, and writing techniques. And the book continues to develop.

What does the system of reading fiction books look like in practice?

Example of Dostoevsky

Dostoevsky put everything aside when he wrote The Brothers Karamazov. It was an obsession novel, as Dmitry Bykov says - that is, a novel into which Dostoevsky invested all his ghosts. Everything that tormented him, interested him, everything difficult questions its reality - in this book.

He corresponded with Pobedonostsev on church issues. He visited Optina Pustyn with Vladimir Solovyov in 1878.

Fedor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky

This the only book, which he wrote without haste. He created all the rest in a terrible fever, sending chapter after chapter to the editorial office of the magazine. And all the time he complained: “If only I could write like Turgenev. No rush." And that's why "The Brothers Karamazov" one of Dostoevsky's calmest and most thoughtful books.

At the same time, he wrote The Brothers Karamazov as a deeply sick man. It is said that the attacks of epilepsy to which he was subject were repeated every week. And this one titanic work- created from last bit of strength writer. He died 4 months after finishing the book.

I wrote all this right now, without opening Wikipedia or sources. I am so interested in Dostoevsky, his books and how he created them, that for me the entire book and biography of the writer is a plot convoy.

Second example. Leo Tolstoy and "War and Peace"

Tolstoy created his "War and Peace" after the publication of Victor Hugo's novel Les Misérables in 1862. He was so inspired by HOW Hugo created his book that he followed suit with his French colleague. Lev Nikolaevich postponed work on the novel several times since 1856. But after the release of Les Misérables, he began writing his War and Peace. Either he realized that he could do no worse, or he was simply inspired by the volume of the book and, at the same time, it is difficult to say by the scale of the events depicted. But the fact remains a fact - Lev Nikolaevich began serious work since 1863.

Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy

Third example. Remarque

I decided to devote the entire 2014 to studying Russian literature. But in the middle of the summer of 2014, I got tired of it. I became very interested in Remarque. So I read it avidly. I devoured it like pies on the beach in the summer.

No change on the Western Front
Three comrades (review, by the way)
Return (read earlier)
love thy neighbour
Triumphal Arch
Night in Lisbon
Collection “Anneta’s Love Story” (stories)
Shadows in Paradise

After this, I'm much better start understand not only the topics that deeply concerned the author. I began to understand exactly how he worked.

For example, Remarque did not live in his native Germany after 1933. There was serious pressure on him. He first moved to Switzerland and then immigrated to the USA. It is the pain of emigrants, memories of home country He captured this period in his books - “Love Thy Neighbor” (by the way, my favorite of his) and “Arc de Triomphe”. Insecurity and social helplessness are shown so strongly in these books that I began to look at my passport as a huge value.

Erich Maria Remarque

Or, for example, it’s interesting that in one of his interviews Remarque said something like this:

“I tried to write my first novels, but it didn’t work. But when I wrote to " Western Front", I found my style. And then I already knew how to write.”

And it’s true, all the other books are similar in style to this one that shot.

He created his book “All Quiet on the Western Front” in just 6 weeks. Then it took another six months to edit.

Fourth example. Hemingway

In the same way, I studied Hemingway's work.

Just not so compressed, but rather at different times

Early stories (Paris period 1922 to 1926)
Fiesta, 1926
A Farewell to Arms, 1929 (review coming soon)
For whom the bell tolls, 1940
The Old Man and the Sea, 1953
Miss Mary's Lion, 1955

Thanks to this study, Hemingway was much closer and clearer to me.

The fact is that a writer puts the best he can into his books. So that they are remembered and hooked.

One of my favorite photographs of the writer. The hard work and labor on every word is visible.

Interestingly, Hemingway wrote Fiesta when his first wife, Hadley Richardson, left him. You understand the book more deeply. He wrote the second book, “A Farewell to Arms,” when he was already famous author. However, while he was editing it, his father shot himself with a gun in 1928.

My plan for 2014. Fiction books - read

Everything is really very simple here.

I decided that I should know a lot of quality fiction. To write well.

I set myself a plan for the period. For example, as I said above, I set a plan for 2014 - to study the best Russian literature.

No sooner said than done.

Read:

Leo Tolstoy "War and Peace"
Leo Tolstoy "The Death of Ivan Ilyich"
Bunin
Kuprin
Solnzhenitsyn
Dostoevsky "The Brothers Karamazov"

Not much to begin with. But for me, Russian literature has greatly expanded.

The main advantage of this method of reading books:

You write better. In fact.
Understand creativity better
Get to know your favorite authors better
Memorability of books, facts, events is good

Conclusion. Read fiction books with the right motivation

This knowledge, these facts are very inspiring. I understand for myself that these writers are not gods, but ordinary people. They were inspired by others. They were wrong. But they continued to write.

For myself, I have drawn up a plan of 15 world classic fiction books that I commit to reading in 2015. (I wrote about this at the end of 2014). This year I'm interested in world classic, the best of everything created. What can be safely called art, and not consumer goods.

You can replace any book from the list by reading another one. The list will be longer, but my minimum is 15 books.

I'm sure you'll be more motivated to read now. And that makes me happy.

Works of art

Alexander Nikolaevich Ostrovsky

THE TALE ABOUT HOW THE QUARTERLY OVERSTARTED TO DANCE, OR FROM

FROM THE GREAT TO THE FUNNY IS ONLY ONE STEP

In one of the dirty alleys, of which there are so many between Myasnitskaya and Sretenka, there is a house of a very unattractive appearance; three small windows humbly look out onto the street, and the plank roof is overgrown with moss in many places. Next to the house is a booth with white columns. This house, with many others nearby, belongs to one respectable person who was almost a secretary somewhere in serf affairs, but due to poor health and shaking hands, she retired; So, in order to always have daily bread, she bought up the entire quarter, and built up empty places with new shacks and rented them out in corners. So, in the house described, there live two kinds of residents: firstly, the quarterly overseer Erofeev and his wife and, secondly, Zveroboev, an official.

The first, better half (two windows facing the street) was occupied by the policeman. There is nothing to describe him, he had nothing special, he was an ordinary quarterly overseer, uniform, gray and fat in the service of the Tsar and the Fatherland. His wife is a matter of a different kind, it is impossible not to describe it, not one of the ordinary ones; She’s quite pretty, about twenty years old, with a white, rosy face, black hair, thick eyebrows, they say she’s tinting them, well, that’s not a big sin, and she knows French. She is known in the neighborhood as an educated lady. Brother, you can’t talk to her, she’ll limit you to one word, says Ivan Ivanovich Zveroboev, their neighbor. And he amuses himself on the piano, singing “Mad Woman” and “You Won’t Believe It” without notes and half of the romance “Talisman” with notes; when she is asked to sing the other half, she says that she is still acting out (for about four years now). She recently got married more out of interest, and says that out of love, but don’t believe her. She is a little flirtatious, as Ivan Ivanovich Zveroboev says, blinking one eye, and especially cannot look indifferently when an officer with a black or white feather rides down the alley. Her name is Anisya Pavlovna.

The other, worse half (one window on the street and, moreover, the top glass opens in the form of a window) is occupied by Ivan Ivanovich Zveroboev. He wears gray trousers and a white picket vest in the summer, and in the winter he wears a uniform and a tailcoat with light buttons. His hat was previously pea-colored, but now, they say, he bought a black one - all this can be. He serves well, I just forgot in which place, it seems in the orphan's court, he has a badge of impeccable service and almost a titular one. He is about forty years old, short in stature, a little pockmarked. The face is light brown with red speckles, the hair is noticeably thinning, especially at the temples and on the crown; however, he wants to seem like a young man. He has a claim to intelligence and with particular importance and courage repeats judgments read from magazines about our writers. He is especially captivated by Pushkin - he bought one volume of Pushkin’s works from the Sukharev Tower, which always lies on his table. They say that he himself wrote poetry, and therefore A.P. Sl[nrzbr.] came to him to ask for them to be placed in [nrzbr.], but out of modesty he did not give, and therefore the public does not know anything about these sins of his . They also say that he lived on Zatsepa, in the apartment of a merchant of the third guild, and, why evil people They won’t make it up like this without paying rent. When they talk to him about this, he always wrinkles his face and says with importance that he definitely lived on Zatsep, but, due to various gossip, and more because there is no good society there, he moved here. So, this matter is dark, maybe the consequences will be revealed. Now let's get to the story.

It was autumn. The mysterious half-light of the evening reigned over Moscow. The sun was dying out, drowning in the pink sea of dawn. It's sad to watch the day burn out in autumn. Only the sun alone gives life to dying nature, and it fades away, just as the last blush on the cheeks of a dying man fades away. Ivan Ivanovich sat in his room by the window and enjoyed the picture of the evening. The last rays of the sun were reflected on its glass; opposite it sat at a respectful distance old man in a drape frock coat, cropped into a brace. It was a neighboring merchant who was tormented by a thirst for enlightenment, and he went to Ivan Ivanovich for books.

Well, father, have you read the book? - said Ivan Ivanovich.

I read it, but not all of it.

Why not all of it? - Ivan Ivanovich asked in surprise.

Yes, sir, there’s nothing interesting, sir.

Oh, what are you saying, Pushkin was greatest poet, he, so to speak, ennobled Russian verse, he was the first, so to speak, to teach us to read light poetry.

It may be that it is different and good. And here is something that a decent person would be ashamed to read, sir.

What have you read?

And this is how some count came to the landowner’s bedroom. By God, it’s not decent, sir.

This, father, means that you have fallen behind the century, which is constantly moving forward and moving forward with quick steps.

Who are you talking about, I didn’t understand something, sir. But listen to me better stupid word.

What is it you want to say?

Yes, in the “Library for Reading”, I borrowed it from a friend recently, under the article there is a gimora it says - the article is not for ladies, well, I should make a reservation here too - the article, they say, is not for ladies, let them read to themselves, yes the writer is absolutely right, isn’t he?

And, can't you see it's a pun? Bar Bar (Probably, we should mean the surname of the editor of the magazine "Library for Reading" O.I. Senkovsky, who wrote under the pseudonym "Baron Brambeus".) is such a writer that he always writes puns.

Here the most respected guest bowed and went home. Ivan Ivanovich began to read Nulin for the tenth time with loud exclamations. Then he had dinner and went to bed, like all decent officials, at ten o’clock.

You think that's the end; no, this is just the beginning. Ivan Ivanovich lay for a long time, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, thinking about something, then he put out the candle and wrapped himself in a blanket. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not sleep. His imagination, tuned by Nulin’s reading, and the proximity of the policeman’s pretty wife, pictured various curious things to him, and at the same time something heavy pressed on his heart. So he got out of bed, struck a fire, lit a pipe and sat under the window.

The street was dirty and dark as if to poke out your eyes; According to police calculations, there should have been a month shining, that’s why they didn’t light the lanterns, and why there wasn’t a month is unknown. Only one lantern near the booth cast a dim glow, and its rays fell directly on the window. Ivan Ivanovich felt stuffy, he walked around the room again, went to the window and opened the window, but this did not help, some unknown longing troubled his soul. So he knelt on the window and put his head in the window, fresh breeze blew right in his face, large drops of rain fell from the roof straight onto his nose - this refreshed him a little. He looked at the booth - the Little Russian guard was sitting on a bench and purring something. Melancholy was reflected on his face and in all his movements. Another guard came up to him.

1. Well, Trochime, what time is it?

2. It’s already been a few hours.

1. Ege, where are you?

2. She walked with a fatal one.

1. Where is the wine?

2. The one where - at Brailovi.

1. Ege - what’s there?

2. Well, the German yaks are walking around.

The other, worse half (one window on the street and, moreover, the top glass opens in the form of a window) is occupied by Ivan Ivanovich Zveroboev. He wears gray trousers and a white picket vest in the summer, and in the winter he wears a uniform and a tailcoat with light buttons. His hat was previously pea-colored, but now, they say, he bought a black one - all this can be. He serves well, I just forgot in which place, it seems in the orphan's court, he has a badge of impeccable service and almost a titular one. He is about forty years old, short in stature, a little pockmarked. The face is light brown with red speckles, the hair is noticeably thinning, especially at the temples and on the crown; however, he wants to seem like a young man. He has a claim to intelligence and with particular importance and courage repeats judgments read from magazines about our writers. He is especially captivated by Pushkin - he bought one volume of Pushkin’s works from the Sukharev Tower, which always lies on his table. They say that he himself wrote poetry, and therefore A.P. Sl[nrzbr.] came to him to ask for them to be placed in [nrzbr.], but out of modesty he did not give, and therefore the public does not know anything about these sins of his . They also say that he lived on Zatsep, in the apartment of a merchant of the third guild, and, what evil people will not make up, supposedly did not pay rent. When they talk to him about this, he always wrinkles his face and says with importance that he definitely lived on Zatsep, but, due to various gossip, and more because there is no good society there, he moved here. So, this matter is dark, maybe the consequences will be revealed. Now let's get to the story.

It was autumn. The mysterious half-light of the evening reigned over Moscow. The sun was dying out, drowning in the pink sea of dawn. It's sad to watch the day burn out in autumn. Only the sun alone gives life to dying nature, and it fades away, just as the last blush on the cheeks of a dying man fades away. Ivan Ivanovich sat in his room by the window and enjoyed the picture of the evening. The last rays of the sun were reflected on its windows; opposite him, at a respectful distance, sat an elderly man in a drape frock coat, with a cropped haircut. It was a neighboring merchant who was tormented by a thirst for enlightenment, and he went to Ivan Ivanovich for books.

Well, father, have you read the book? - said Ivan Ivanovich.

I read it, but not all of it.

Why not all of it? - Ivan Ivanovich asked in surprise.

Yes, sir, there’s nothing interesting, sir.

Oh, what are you saying, Pushkin was the greatest poet, he, so to speak, ennobled Russian verse, he was the first, so to speak, to teach us to read light poetry.

It may be that it is different and good. And here is something that a decent person would be ashamed to read, sir.

What have you read?

And this is how some count came to the landowner’s bedroom. By God, it’s not decent, sir.

This, father, means that you have fallen behind the century, which is constantly moving forward and moving forward with quick steps.

Who are you talking about, I didn’t understand something, sir. But better listen to my stupid word.

What is it you want to say?

The street was dirty and dark as if to poke out your eyes; According to police calculations, there should have been a month shining, that’s why they didn’t light the lanterns, and why there wasn’t a month is unknown. Only one lantern near the booth cast a dim glow, and its rays fell directly on the window. Ivan Ivanovich felt stuffy, he walked around the room again, went to the window and opened the window, but this did not help, some unknown longing troubled his soul. So he knelt on the window and put his head in the window, the fresh wind blew straight into his face, large drops of rain fell from the roof right on his nose - this refreshed him a little. He looked at the booth - the Little Russian guard was sitting on a bench and purring something. Melancholy was reflected on his face and in all his movements. Another guard came up to him.

1. Well, Trochime, what time is it?

2. It’s already been a few hours.

1. Ege, where are you?

2. She walked with a fatal one.

1. Where is the wine?

2. The one where - at Brailovi.

1. Ege - what’s there?

2. Well, the German yaks are walking around.

2. And the music of the graje and some kind of waltz dance.

1. Hey, do they drink vodka? - he said, making his throat sound as if he was swallowing something.

2. They drink the same way, without any leportation.

1. Well, what about wine?

2. Beer, beer and vodka, and beer, and everything, as soon as they start dancing, so throughout the entire office there is a bida.

2. I’m well off the bidi.

A terrible thought was born in Ivan Ivanovich’s head. Kvartalny is not at home, Anisya Pavlovna is alone, thought Ivan Ivanovich, and Count Nulin came to his mind. Then, with a deep sigh, he climbed down from the window, put on a robe and began to walk around the room, gathering his courage; his soul was spinning between fear and hope. So he walked up to the door, took hold of the bracket, thought a little and then back again. Then he began to guess, closed his eyes, even though the room was as dark as in the kingdom of Pluto, turned his finger around his finger and began to move slowly; The first time they got together, the second time they didn’t, and the third time they got along, the fourth time they didn’t. Then he came to the door three times and finally made up his mind. The door creaked. Anisya Pavlovna was lying on the bed and reading something, suddenly she lowered the book and fixed her fiery gaze on Ivan Ivanovich: he was decidedly embarrassed.